


all of the things we did not become

by manquant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manquant/pseuds/manquant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 1x22, End of the Beginning. We cannot just have Melinda May obviously so concerned about Jemma Simmons and not get anything out of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of the things we did not become

The Bus was devoid of paper shuffling in Coulson’s office, of Skye typing away on her laptop, of Fitz talking passionately to his gadgets who only manage whirring and bleeps in return, of Trip burying himself in another book when he’s had enough of sparring or helping FitzSimmons around. The lack of bustling, or any activity in her plane for that matter, takes her back a few days ago. She made up her mind and packed her things. She had to sought out answers and staying will not be of any help. No one saw her leave except Ward. Ironic, how everything went down after that. Actually, the world around them’s crumbling and her senses were not adept enough to foresee it. These thoughts need to go away, she’s had more than she bargained for with this long day. She could have done this inspection with the advanced remote controls and rest in the provided lodgings of the Playground but it would be a little help if she could cling on to that bit of familiarity that comes with flicking those cockpit controls. Sudden change on top of another, anticipating when she could fly her plane again turned out to be not as easy as it used to be. The best estimate she can make for now is not this week, everything’s up for reassessment, Fitz’ condition especially.

She meant to be the only soul here but as she heads for a few more moments in her pilot’s chair, she walks in to find one of the bunks lit, Simmons’. She must have missed the girl when she did her mental headcount before heading to the hangar. Or it still has not sunk in that she’s with them again… Melinda’s not so sure herself. The outline of the biochemist hunched in her bed was so clear against the translucent door and so are her words.  _Everything is going to be alright_ , she hears her repeat over and over again. Any other noise would have drowned those desperate whispers but all May has with her is quiet. Slowly, she opens the door.

If Jemma even was aware of her coming inside, she made no sign of it. Half of her clothes are already placed in the open duffel bag along with a few other belongings left lying on the floor while the rest are either in the cabinet or scattered on the bed. The bunks are not really spacious but Jemma was on the far side of the bed, leaning against the wall. She’s hugging her knees, her loose hair covering her face, rocking herself. The young scientist went through just as much and Melinda isn’t one for comparing who’s had worse because that doesn’t matter. She unzips her leather vest and places it among the unfolded pile. Her fingers brushed them and they were slightly damp. May doesn’t have to guess how that came to be.

She climbs onto the bed and sits near her. “Jemma.”

At the mention of her name, Simmons stopped rocking herself. First, it was a sniffle which turned to full-on sobbing. She almost choked with the words to a sentence she never completed. “It’s not… I’m… May, why…” Jemma Simmons is anything but inarticulate, the only time she hesitates with her speech is when she’s trying to sell a lie. Melinda couldn’t help but heave a sigh. Jemma may really be mature but she’s just a kid. It’s normal she loses composure although May would give anything for it to not happen like this. She replaces those strands of hair back behind her ears and pulled Simmons close. The latter’s initial instinct was to recoil from her but Melinda waited it out until Simmons relaxed. She cautiously leaned on her and wrapped her arms back. With her left hand, she stroked Jemma’s head until she soothed her out of crying.

"Can we stay for a while?" Her hoarse voice wasn’t asking, it’s a plea.

Melinda nodded. “Take as much time as you need, Jemma. I’m here.”

Simmons nestled her head on May’s shoulder and the supposed aching it brought about was dulled. Not the time to mind herself nor her own pains, this girl needs an anchor. She embraces her tighter. She couldn’t promise everything will be alright as Jemma wants but if Melinda can provide her with one thing at the moment, it is giving her this.

 

* * *

 

Comfort she sought when she placed her head on May’s shoulder but it wasn’t Jemma’s plan to find that in mere minutes, she fell asleep in those protective arms. She woke up in a fetal position, curled into Melinda May. She has not experienced this since her mum when she was eight – she was the smart, free-spirited girl who grew up too fast for her parents. She must have wanted this because she had a dreamless slumber with May wrapped around her. Memory of last night is murky with all the tears but they are under an embroidered quilt that is most certainly not of this bunk. She breathed in the air laced with May’s scent and the effect is the same, her worries not completely gone but at least, eased. Jemma slowly craned her neck to get a better view of Melinda May. Instead of the serene expression she wanted to view, first thing she noticed was how pale May is and her cheeks are flushed red. She lifted the quilt and it confirmed her hypothesis: it’s unusually warm despite the airconditioning and it’s not due to their close proximity nor their cozy cover, it’s Melinda and pretty sure she’s running a high fever. Simmons had a peaceful night but at this cost.

She repositioned herself to touch May’s forehead and have an estimate of her temperature. Her hand grazed May’s cheek and she elicited reaction she didn’t expect. Melinda stirred and started speaking in a fraught tone, one Jemma doesn’t usually hear from her. _I won’t hurt you, believe me. I can keep you safe, please just come here. You can’t step back, it’s too dangerous. Please... No, no, no!_ It’s uncanny how a few hours back, Jemma was chanting to make herself feel better only to end up blaming herself more had May not walked in on her. Melinda May, one of, if not the highest authority in their team, the one she admired for her valiance from all the stories she heard about the unnamed legendary female specialist back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, the agent she thought would court martial her for shooting another senior agent only to be hardly stifling her laughter while cooly admonishing that senior agent for raising his voice with her and daring him that she’s not afraid whether he’ll go and file a report against her and her team or not (Simmons was with May that time and while she is grateful for how Skye was right that telling their pilot the truth is the best way to deal with this, she cannot look at Agent Sitwell at all who is being grilled at the moment like it was his fault for suspecting Simmons of doing something shady which of course, she was but May was excelling at diverting the subject from that) – there’s only one logical explanation, May’s having a nightmare. And if ever all those hyperbole-filled whispers about The Cavalry had a sliver of truth to them, it’s her dark past that’s haunting her now. More often than not, the rest of the team would forget or rather, overlook the fact that May is just like them – she may just awkwardly stiffen when Simmons wasn’t able to help herself and rushed to her after they discovered she came back or merely winced while her countless bruises are being attended to but it doesn’t make her any less human, susceptible to pain and feeling. Carefully, she held her hand, ignoring how burning hot Melinda’s skin was and squeezed it.

“Agent May, it’s me, Jemma Simmons. Wake up.”

She shot up. Still grasping Simmons’ right hand. Jemma got up as well and reached for the quilt to wrap around the shivering May with the free one. Most likely, she’ll never forget how lost Melinda’s eyes are in those moments but she has to maintain the calm facade to soothe her down, just like how Melinda talked her out. “It’s over now. It’s a dream.”

“It happened.” The words came out of her in an eerie monotone. Her eyes still averted from Jemma but she’s relieved May’s all lucid now.

She’s spared of taking in the sight of May being delirious. She has to alleviate this fever, it’s already gotten worse. Melinda must have contracted an infection with the blows she received and has been enduring this since the wild fight with him; Simmons was listlessly sitting down with Skye but together with Trip, the two of them filled her in with what happened from her wielding the Berserker Staff again to them going against Garrett and his supersoldiers while Coulson and Koenig fussed over details of the team settling in the Playground yesterday. She snapped back to reality and May has already let go of her hand and was helping herself to the folded leather vest on the edge of the bed.

“You’re sick, May. You should stay here.”

She’s still more nimble than Jemma. She was already opening the door when her knees buckled. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s anything but alright.” Simmons stood up and helped Melinda up. Jemma doesn’t mind she’s raising her voice. May’s nauseous, her deathly grip on the door handle evidence clear as day. It wouldn’t help to be in denial. “As the attending physician of this team, I’m ordering you to lie down.” She looks straight at Melinda and in a softer tone, said, “Please.”

She leads Melinda back, props up the pillows for her to lean against. May wanted to say something but Jemma raised her hand.

“Don’t interrupt me just yet, I’m not done.” With Melinda’s full attention to her, she sat down, braced herself and continued. “Let me help you. It’s the least I can do. Also, to show I appreciate you for being there for me.”

“Jemma, this isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, I know. You showed me I cannot put it on me, everything that happens. But this? It’s a part of my responsibility.” She gets the blanket and tucks her superior in. “Back at the Hub, when we were walking together to get Skye, you told me I did okay because imperfect it may be, it’s for the protection of our people. You said I shouldn’t hesitate when it comes to that. You have to allow me since I’ve taken those words to heart and those words are from you.”

“You’re not letting me argue my way out of this? Skye must be looking for me, I promised her five in the morning. Unless she overslept. Koenig doesn’t ‘trust’ us yet.”

“No. I don’t care. You don’t have any energy to spare. We’ll deal with that later. The priority is my patient and that’s you, May.”

“Well, then. I concede, Dr. Simmons.”

“Okay. I will have to run diagnostics to find out the source of the infection. That would be done faster if we’re in the lab but with your condition, it’s best you stay here and I bring what I need here. Oh, fluids... I’ll brew peppermint tea. Just relax and rest yourself.”

Melinda nodded and Jemma took it as her signal to leave. She spun around.

“May, one thing.”

“Go on.”

“You had a nightmare. The same one you’ve been having since _then_.”

Simmons was met with silence yet she goes on. “It isn’t healthy you’re managing it alone. I could be sounding as prying but I believe you should talk it out. No guarantee of losing them altogether but it lifts some of the burden.”

“Jemma... I don’t know where to start and even if I did, it would always stay. But thank you.” May closed her eyes.

HYDRA raided most of their supplies but the necessary apparatus are intact. There’s some time before they are all entirely prepped up and she can return to her bunk with them. Running her hands over the jumper she’s wearing in an attempt to smoothen those rumples, she heads out of the plane. The secret base where they are supposed to start anew is an altered version of Providence. It’s fitted with a few more improvements, a laboratory she’s sure she’ll be in most of the time, among others. She peeks into Fitz’ room, his vitals unchanging but Trip’s staying there so she can really concentrate on May. After securing the fever medicine she concoted, she went straight for the kitchen and did the tea. She sticks a note to notify the rest of the team of her whereabouts. With both her hands full, it’s a wonder she crossed the hangar and arrived into her bunk without spilling the tea on the lab equipment or mixing the medications. Melinda May was sleeping already by the time she came back. Jemma took the liberty of loosening the latter’s clothing and when the salve that promotes healing for the bruises and scars have dried, she left a cold compress on her forehead and started pressing a damp, lukewarm towel all over May’s chest, arms and neck. She made her drink the tea during the times she drifted out of sleep to promote sweating. Simmons didn’t really went easy until the fever subsided three hours later. Fatigue’s catching up with her. A nap wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m not a fussy sleeper. I could be up in thirty minutes,” she whispers to Melinda May’s sleeping form as she climbs onto the bed.

“I agree.”

“Did I wake you up? I tried to be anything but loud, I’m so sorry.”

May’s eyes fluttered open and she shifts to face her. “It’s fine. I must be getting better.”

“Probably. Rest some more and we can talk later.” Jemma lets out another yawn. “Speaking of, can I sleep here with you? Again?”

“I should be the one asking permission. It’s your bed.”

Jemma grins and snuggles close to Melinda. “Are you still cold?”

“Not so much. This quilt’s useful. I couldn’t leave you when you dozed off.”

“I must have inconvenienced you. According to the results, you were running that fever from last night. You did all this needle work? It’s gorgeous.”

“You should see my mother’s. I learned from her. And I didn’t count on the fever spiking, I made you unnecessarily worried.”

“May, you’re _always_ worried about us, me and Fitz and Skye especially. But then there’s C- oh, nevermind. What I’m trying to say is, you don’t stop looking out for the entire team. What’s the harm we do the same for you once in a while?”

Jemma could sense that familiar flick of a smile from Melinda. She’s recovering fast, at least. Simmons was half-asleep when she felt May moved a bit farther from her, turning her back to Jemma.

“You must be sleeping. I... never shared the specific details, not even in the official report. I just wanted to end, then.” She didn’t attempt to reply but it’s hard not to react to Melinda’s breaking voice. “The stories you have heard, they’re not entirely true. I did not come in and saved everyone. How could I? I only had my bare hands with me, no back-up at all.” It took a minute or so before she spoke again. “That cost me dearly. A girl, a local, around five years old. I couldn’t get her to trust me with blood splattered all over my face and hands and clothes... she went back in after I got the hostaged agents and civilians out. I tried to follow her, pleaded but she said she’s safer there. The building burst into flames, she’s too far in and it was all too late...”

Jemma Simmons was unsure if anything would be proper. Melinda May must not have wanted that she actually hear the true version of that significant event but it means a lot she took her advice. She held May close to her – it wouldn’t erase the indelible mark left by Bahrain but it’s a reminder that the same way she’s here for Jemma, she wanted to be that to her. Simmons felt Melinda’s hand intertwine with hers in response before both of them drifted to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally from my tumblog for the post prompt "May|Simmons+'Everything will be alright'" but since I got another one, "May|Simmons+ghosts from the past", I got really inspired to write out my intense feelings for them.
> 
> The title is from the quote, "How do we forgive ourselves for all of the things we did not become?" taken from 14 Lines from Love Letters or Suicide Notes by David Luben


End file.
